TWD: Harsh Reality
by Cerulean Scarf
Summary: Strangers facing the zombie apocalypse in the Pacific Northwest are united by one philosophy: adapt, or die. (Artist wanted for character drawings!)
1. Intro

The Pacific Northwest Express, engine 4197, roared through the forests of Washington state, making its way to its destination of Seattle after departing from Boise, Idaho, eight hours earlier. It was a long journey and there was still a ways to go, but twenty-seven-year-old engineer Devin Maynard enjoyed the solitude and the distraction. He also enjoyed the scenery, but it was now after 9 PM and thus he could only see whatever was illuminated by the train's headlight.

"Dispatch to 4197, come in," a voice crackled over the radio.

"Dispatch," Devin responded, "this is 4197, two hours out from Seattle. How you doing, Jim?"

"I'm well kid," Jim's friendly voice replied, "but we have a change in plans." He paused. "Devin, I've been doing this for almost forty years now, but this is a new one for me."

"What's going on?"

"Well," Jim said, dragging the word out, "at Ellensburg, all the passengers are to be taken off the train by the National Guard, and you're gonna take the soldiers to Seattle."

Devin was confused. "What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know buddy, just do what they ask." He paused. "Sorry that your first ride back with us isn't such a breeze."

Devin sat pensively for a moment, and then responded. "Don't worry about it. It is what it is. Over." He then grabbed his intra-train radio to inform his conductor of the inevitable headache associated with telling the passengers that they were to be left stranded two hours from the destination they paid for.

"You're kidding me, right?" His conductor Ken asked, annoyed. "Half these people are asleep, for Christ's sake!"

"What do you want me to do, Ken? It's the National Guard, we don't have a choice."

There was radio silence for a moment, as Ken sighed deeply. "Fine," he finally replied with a huff. As he went to inform the train's fifty-three passengers, many of whom were in fact asleep, Devin focused ahead, adjusting his glasses and his Mariners baseball cap. The train rolled on at about fifty miles per hour, and in the distance he could see the red lights of a grade crossing brightly spring to life. The train approached the crossing at its normal speed, when Devin suddenly noticed something.

A man was walking on the tracks. And he was facing down the train.

Devin sounded the horn immediately, but all that happened was that the man began to run directly at the train. Devin hit the emergency brake, but he knew there was no stopping the train before it reached the man. He thought to himself, Isn't there a better way to commit suicide?

As the train slowed from fifty miles an hour, to forty-seven, engine 4197 struck the man. Devin couldn't see the impact due to the height, or hear it over the roar of the engines, but there was no doubt in his mind that this man was dead. He opened the window and stuck his head out; using the light of his personal cell phone, he could make out a smear of blood along the side just above the wheel well.

"Holy fuck…" Devin said to himself, horrified. He then grabbed the radio. "4197 to dispatch, 4197 to dispatch, come in, over!"

"4197, this is dispatch," Jim's voice quickly came back, "is everything alright Devin?"

Devin was in a panic. "No Jim, it isn't. I just hit someone on the tracks. He just…" Devin paused briefly. "He just RAN at the train, like he was trying to die."

Jim wanted to assure Devin. "Even if he didn't, that's not on you. Either he was trying to kill himself, or he didn't have the sense to not walk on train tracks. Either way, it's gonna be fine Devin."

"Easy for you to say," Devin snapped back, "you're not the one who just fucking KILLED someone!"

"Calm down kid, you have to stop at Ellensburg anyway. I'll call the local cops, they'll sort it out. Where was it?"

Devin took a breath. "It was just before the route 107 crossing."

"I'll take care of it, you just get to Ellensburg and deal with whatever's going on. Over." Then, there was silence again, all the way to Ellensburg.

Engine 4197 pulled into the Ellensburg train station, with sixty National Guardsmen lining the platform. Ken opened the doors to the passenger cars, intending to usher the passengers off, but a soldier rushed past him and addressed the passengers. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said in the firm voice of a soldier, "my name is Sergeant Thompson, I'm with the National Guard. I'm sure you're all confused right now, but let me assure you that you are not in any trouble or any danger. There is a situation underway that requires the use of this train, but we have transport to take you to our facility nearby where we will sort everyone and everything out, but for now, I need you all to calmly disembark the train, single file, let's go."

Most of the passengers followed his order without issue, but one well-dressed passenger was not happy with the change in plan. "Excuse me, I have an important meeting in Seattle tomorrow at seven, I can't miss it." Another passenger voiced his concern as well. "We paid for a ticket to Seattle, will we get a refund?"

"Please," Sgt. Thompson said, "just follow our orders and we'll work everything out." As the two vocal passengers attempted to respond in frustration, Thompson walked away and headed for the locomotive, where Devin was standing outside the door to the cabin. "Are you the engineer?"

"Yes," Devin replied to the sergeant, "I'm Devin Maynard. What is all this? What's going on?"

After introducing himself, Thompson replied. "Mr. Maynard, there is a situation ongoing in Seattle right now, and we're reinforcements. We sent a few helicopters over, but for the rest of us, rail travel is the fastest route to the city. So we're gonna need you to take us there."

"What about the passengers? My conductor?"

"They'll be taken to our facility, and they'll be fed and given a place to sleep. Don't worry about them."

Devin paused, and then suddenly remembered. "Shortly before we got here, I struck a person on the tracks. I'll probably need to talk to the police or something."

Thompson looked surprised, but then explained to Devin what he could. "Trust me Mr. Maynard, it's not gonna be a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Devin asked with disgust. "I ran someone over, that's not nothing."

Getting frustrated, Thompson replied, "If the cops DO come for you, pretend you didn't know about it."

Devin stared in shock. "What the FUCK is going on?"

Thompson looked back and saw the last of the passengers loaded onto the bus, some of whom were becoming more vocal about the situation, be it out of annoyance, inconvenience, or even fear. Once they were all aboard the bus, the soldiers boarded the train. He then turned back to Devin. "It's time for us to go. I think maybe I should be in the cabin with you."

"Are you gonna explain ANYTHING?" Devin glared at the soldier, who said nothing as he walked into the cabin. Rolling his eyes, Devin followed him, took his seat, and got the train underway. As the train was entering a residential area, Devin was required to slow the train to forty miles an hour.

"Don't," Thompson ordered. "Maintain your speed."

"I can't go fifty around here. I have regulations—"

"Actually," Thompson cut him off, "I'm gonna need you to speed up. Time is critical and we have to get to the city."

Devin paused, then smirked. "Tell me what's going on, and I'll push this thing to its limits. Otherwise, we're gonna get there at regulation speed."

Thompson looked at him angrily. Then, he pulled his pistol and pointed it at Devin. "I can't imagine it's too hard to learn how to drive this thing. I've been told I'm a fast learner."

Devin was in shock. "Jesus Christ man, get that gun out of my face!"

"Don't make me man." He paused. "My job is to deal with this situation, your job is just to drive the train."

"Whatever," Devin said, folding. Thompson holstered his pistol as Devin turned back to the tracks. Looking ahead, he saw another grade crossing illuminate, and he could see a car pull up and stop in front of the flashing red lights. As the train reached the crossing, Devin glanced down at the car, and was horrified at what he saw.

A man was pulling the driver out of his window, and it seemed almost like he was biting the driver's neck.

"Holy shit," Devin said, shaking. "Did you see that?"

"Just keep driving," Thompson said. "Don't think about it"

"For fuck's sake," Devin responded, fully agitated, "I ran over a man walking on the tracks, and I just saw another man BITING another man. Either you tell me what's going on, or I shut this train down. There's six steps to turning it on, and I sincerely doubt you'll figure it out that quickly. So I ask again: What. The fuck. Is going on?" He then placed his hand over the emergency fuel shutoff switch, and stared Thompson down.

Thompson grimaced, but conceded. "Very well, Mr. Maynard." He took a deep breath. "For a few months now, there have been isolated cases of…an illness." He paused. "There is now evidence to suggest that somehow, it's gone global."

Devin was confused. "What kind of illness? What is this, a new plague?"

Thompson stared off to the side. "I suppose you could say that. It's an illness no one has ever seen before. Frankly, it sounds like some voodoo from a witch doctor."

"Shit…what does this illness do?"

"First, you get sick; throwing up, dizziness, fever, it's basically like the flu. The difference though, is that this flu so far has a confirmed zero-percent recovery rate. In essence, if you contract it, you're dead."

"How is it contracted?"

"I'll get to that, but first, there's another aspect of the illness." He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "After you die, there's some kind of…metabolic reaction."

"What reaction?"

Thompson closed his eyes, and decided to just be direct.

"In essence, you come back to life."

Devin was mystified. "You…come back? What does that mean?"

"Well, that may not be an accurate statement. Your body gets up and starts walking around, but you're…not there. It's just a mindless creature that seems to have nothing but the most basic animalistic need: food. And its preferred prey, by all accounts, is still-living people. It'll pursue anything it even thinks MAY be food. And once it bites you, you get the infection."

Devin was stunned. "So…" he started, "you're telling me that there's a plague that is causing people to die, only to come back to life as a brain-dead cannibal?"

Thompson nodded. "More or less. There's a hundred different names for these things, but the most popular term seems to be 'walkers'."

This was the craziest thing Devin had ever heard, by a sizable margin. He stared down the tracks, dumbfounded, and saw another man standing on the tracks, unafraid of the massive approaching behemoth. Part of Devin felt relieved that he didn't actually cause someone's death, but that hardly seemed like a good tradeoff for everything Thompson just told him was happening, apparently on a global scale. He closed his eyes as the train obliterated the walker, attempting to comprehend the harsh reality that lay ahead.


	2. King Street

"Hello world," the woman said a half second after pressing record on her phone's camera, "Charlotte here again, with perhaps the craziest message you'll EVER get from me." She paused to take a breath, not at all nervous but rather excited to be capturing such an event. "So right now, I and a bunch of other people, like, literally probably around five HUNDRED or so, have been rounded up by the National Guard inside King Street Station here in Seattle, and there's probably like fifty soldiers here but they honestly seem as confused as everyone else here. All they're doing is blocking the exits to keep people from getting out." She paused again, and smirked. "There've been rumblings in the darkest recesses of the internet about some sort of weird illness that's making people crazy in different places around the world. I've heard of it happening in Nigeria, then Russia, then Italy…whatever it is, there's a chance it's made it here. I'm not too worried because if those other incidents were too major, they couldn't cover it up; hell, they barely covered THIS one up. But whatever is going on, you can count on me to get to the bottom of it like I always do. This is Charlotte Brody, of CBInternet, signing off." With that, she stopped her recording.

At just twenty-five years old, Charlotte had cemented herself as a serious name in amateur investigative journalism. Although she did not have any sort of degree (having dropped out of college after only a year), she nevertheless devoted her time to digging around for major things being covered up against the public interest. While she didn't care about finding a married politician on a dating website (or when someone else found out, broke the story, and ended his career), she refused to stand by when she came across a covered-up murder by a local athlete; she delivered her findings to the authorities, who opened an investigation and eventually sent the murderer to prison for life. Against the advice of the police and attorneys, Charlotte proudly took credit on her blog, gaining her enough supporters for her to start a vlog on the world's foremost video-sharing site. She knew that it was time to start filming once she and everyone walking down the street in her vicinity were rounded up like cattle and ushered into Seattle's largest and busiest train station.

She had hidden in a small alcove in a seldom-used hallway to film her video; she quickly applied red lipstick to compliment her caramel skin, and decided to just leave her black beanie on as she didn't feel like she was having the best hair day. Once she had finished, she went back among the other people herded into the station, hoping to get some witness statements to spice up her blog.

…

"I need to search you sir," the Guardsman said firmly but politely.

"You dumbasses searched me already," thirty-six-year-old Army veteran Gordon Randall said gruffly, annoyed at the demand. "What are you looking for this time?"

"Sir," the Guardsman said, growing impatient, "I need to check for any cuts or other open wounds."

"Open wounds? What, you think I'm living in a blender or some shit? What the FUCK kinda bullshit is this?"

"Sir! I'm just doing my job." He noticed the tattoo on Gordon's arm, indicating his military service. "Same as you did." Gordon sighed, and let the Guardsman search him. "I'm just looking out for you. If you start feeling funny, it's imperative you get to the triage area."

"Yeah, whatever." Gordon then started to leave the search area, when he was stopped by another civilian, who was African-American like himself, as well as tall and lanky.

"You were Army?" the man asked Gordon.

"Yeah," Gordon replied. "Five years, did two tours. You a vet?"

"No," the man replied, "I was just thinking you might know what's going on."

"Well sorry man, I don't know any more than you do, although I'm gonna have words with whoever tries to search me again." The man laughed, then Gordon changed the subject, "What's your name, man?"

"Josh Smithson, you?"

"Gordon Randall." As the men shook hands and started to walk away, a commotion arose in the next line over from the one Gordon had been in.

"You're gettin' a little handsy there, ya flag-spermin' CUNT!" A woman in her early twenties, who stood at just five-foot-three and had black hair in a bob, shouted in her thick Scottish accent at a Guardsman who felt her thigh as he lifted her skirt slightly. He was genuinely just trying to do his job and search her for any cuts, but the young woman wasn't having it.

"Ma'am, please calm down," he asked, attempting to reassure her of his duty.

"I'll calm down when ya stop liftin' my skirt ya pervert!"

"Ma'am, I just need to search you—" The woman kept yelling at him, and Gordon and Josh merely looked at each other and silently walked away from the scene.

…

The Guardsmen had blocked all the entrances; no one was getting in or out without their say-so. However, twenty-eight-year-old tattoo artist Samantha Dane, who owned a parlor near the station, convinced a Guardsman to let her step out onto one of the train platforms, all of which had been closed to the civilians, to have a cigarette for the first time in nearly twelve hours. The soldier warned her not to get too far from the door, but he let her go and stood with the door cracked, in case she yelled for help.

She lit a cigarette and felt her cravings subside almost instantly. At that moment, two men exited the same door she had, and joined her on the platform, also to smoke. One of the men was in his late thirties and had blonde hair and a mustache; the other was in his early forties, wore glasses, and had dark hair that was starting to gray. Both were dressed in business-casual attire.

"You have any idea what's going on?" The blonde man asked Samantha.  
"I don't have a fucking clue," Samantha replied. "All I know is, I'm just happy that guy let me out for a smoke."

"Same here," the bespectacled man said, "I haven't had one all day."

Samantha smiled politely at them, but the blonde man sensed she wasn't exactly enthusiastic for company. "I'm sorry if we're bothering you," he said warmly.

"It's fine," she said back. "I'm Samantha."

"I'm Chris," the blonde man responded, "and this talkative SOB here is my co-worker Bill."

"Nice to meet you," Bill said with a friendly smile. Samantha smiled back, and they proceeded to make idle chit-chat as they smoked and stared into the night sky.

…

"This whole thing is bullshit man," said Ryan, a muscular construction worker with had a penchant for conspiracy theories. "They're turning this place into a quarantine zone. NONE of us are leaving."

"Well," nineteen-year-old Ethan said, "if it's a quarantine thing, why would we leave?"

"I'm telling you man," Quentin, a cook who coincidentally was twenty-nine years old like Ryan, "there's like, a real problem here. Those guys are scared and they know something's up." He was referring to the soldiers; Ryan and Ethan looked up and could see the concern on some of their faces.

The three men, complete strangers before this day, had been chatting casually before, but as the seriousness of the situation started to set in, the conversation evolved, and Ryan began sharing some of the conspiracy theories he spent most of his free time indulging in. Ethan didn't quite believe him, while Quentin felt that Ryan wasn't dealing with the seriousness of the particular situation they were in; none of his theories seemed relevant to why they and hundreds of other people were likely spending the night in a train station.

"Wanna know why I'm fucking POSITIVE this this shit is serious?" Quentin asked. Before receiving an answer, he shared his thoughts. "Look at the gates: those soldiers are frisking EVERYBODY. Situations like this, no offense Ryan, but soldiers tend to single out the minorities more than anyone else. But those soldiers? They're so concerned about something that they are checking every last person they bring in." Both Quentin and Ethan were African-American, although Quentin was much more light-skinned than Ethan.

"Look man," Ryan responded, "I ain't even gonna get into if you're right or wrong on that one. All I know is, these guys do NOT have our back, so make sure you watch yours." He paused, then turned to Ethan. "What do you think, kid?"

"Honestly," Ethan said, "I think you guys are both right. I think there's something serious going on, and that those guys will fuck us all over if it things go wrong."

…

Two women sat on a bench in the designated triage area. One woman was Caucasian, blonde, and in her early forties; the other was of Middle Eastern descent and was in her late twenties. Both sat in shell-shocked silence, until a woman came up to them.

"Excuse me," Charlotte asked them politely, "I'm a reporter and would like to ask you a couple of questions. It seems like you may know more about what's going on than most people here."

"May know more…" the Middle Eastern woman repeated. "I know more than you could ever imagine. I know how it feels, to see your life torn from you. I know that I don't even know why I'm here right now…" She paused, and Charlotte seemed to be regretting asking, but before she could apologize, the woman continued. "My sons were eaten in front of me. They were four, and eighteen months. I watched some crazy person bite both of them at a playground. Then I had to watch a cop SHOOT that man, and then he dragged me here before I could see if my boys were even alive." She could no longer hold in either her tears or her rage. "And now…these people have the nerve…to tell me…that that guy was merely SICK…oh, but you wanna see what I KNOW."

Charlotte was stunned to the same silence the women were in before, and then the other woman tearfully chimed in.

"Another crazy man bit my daughter. She was twelve. A soldier shot her after I asked for help; he told me it had to be done, and then they dragged me here. How's THAT for your story?"

Charlotte was horrified and heartbroken by the news. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…I never would've…I'm so sorry…" Before she could find the right words to say, a tall man in his late forties with graying hair came over to her.

"Excuse me ma'am, are you hurt?"

Charlotte was surprised by his presence. "No, I'm fine, I was just—"

"Let me stop you right there," the man rudely cut her off. "I heard. You're a reporter. Although to me, you people are fucking VULTURES. Both of these women have been traumatized, and all you care about is your story?! I'm a doctor, which means I can actually HELP people, unlike you. Get out of here and don't come back unless you get hurt, which if you keep doing this shit, will be sooner rather than later."

Charlotte was taken aback by the man's rudeness. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I never would've come over here if I had known—"

"It's a TRIAGE, you stupid little girl. No one here wants to talk to anyone but me. Now get out of here."

Charlotte was ready to argue, but then another woman, in her early thirties with reddish brown hair, whom Charlotte suspected was the doctor's nurse, calmly put her arm around her. "Let's go," she said politely but firmly to Charlotte, "let's not exacerbate things any further."

"Keep her out of here, Danielle!" The doctor angrily ordered.

Once they were out of the triage area, Charlotte spoke again. "Is there any reason he has to be such a dick?!"

"That," Danielle said, "is Dr. Ned Vaughn, one of the most brilliant surgeons in Seattle." She paused. "He also happens to be a giant fucking asshole. I'm a doctor too, yet he's relegated me to being a nurse. But, the Guardsmen only have one medic, so they needed help."

"He shouldn't treat anyone like that, let alone a fellow doctor."

Danielle sighed. "He's a surgeon, I'm a dermatologist. Because of that, he put himself in charge. Never mind that I went to medical school just like him. But whatever, my ego can take a back seat while I'm helping people. So please, don't come back unless you need medical attention, okay? And before you ask, no I'm not up for an interview right now."

"Fair enough," Charlotte said, nodding. Then she walked away, and Danielle walked back to the triage area, and went to check on another patient, a black man in his mid-twenties that she had stitched up earlier. "How are you feeling, Victor?"

"I'm fine doc," he said politely; Danielle smiled at him being the first person all day to acknowledge her as a doctor.

"No fever or anything?"

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Okay, well just to be safe I'm gonna check for a fever." She then put her hand on his forehead.

"Jesus, I'm twenty-six, yet you're treating me like I'm six!"

Danielle chuckled, and took her hand away. "Well if you don't like it, then I have some good news for you: you're free to go. You don't have a fever or anything, so you can go be a big boy out there with everyone else now."

Victor rolled his eyes and smiled. "See you round, doc. Don't YOU get sick now." He then stood up, and left the triage area.

…

Engine 4197 chugged onward to King Street Station. Devin readied himself to slow down the train for the approach.

"Does everyone know?" Devin asked Sgt. Thompson.

"No," Thompson swiftly replied. "Not even all of my fellow Guardsmen know. And you're not saying ANYTHING. The only reason you know is because you're a swift blackmailer."

"Look man, I won't say anything, but these people are NOT gonna take it well if they find out and realized you hid it from them."

"Luckily for you, that isn't your concern. Your concern is just driving this train as and when we need you to." They sat in silence for a moment, then Thompson continued. "Look, I get it, you're confused, you have questions. Hell, I still have questions too, but I just wanna make sure that these people are safe. They're my priority, and once they're safe, I can finally start asking questions because a world safe for these people is a world safe enough for me to get answers."

Devin nodded, respecting Thompson's position. "You're a good guy, Sergeant. Just don't let everything go to shit." Then, Devin began to slow the train for the arrival at King Street.


	3. Windows

Engine 4197 slowed to a halt at King Street Station, a century-old brick building overlooked by a tall clock tower, and all of the National Guardsmen he had picked up disembarked from the train. Devin and Sgt. Thompson stepped out of the front car after the others had done so, and Devin headed towards the engine at the back of the train for his routine inspection. As he made his way there, he was stopped when a tattooed woman smoking a cigarette spoke to him.

"This all looks totally normal," Samantha said sarcastically.

"Look lady," Devin responded, "I'm just the engineer. They all got aboard my train and told me what to do."

"They tell you what's going on here?"

"No," he lied, after a moment's hesitation. "I don't know anything." He paused again. "Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta inspect my train."

Samantha motioned towards the engine car with her arm. "Don't let me stop you." Despite that statement, she called to him again. "By the way, I'm Samantha. And I'm not a fucking lady." She smirked at Devin; he nodded awkwardly, and kept walking. Samantha chuckled at his discomfort.

…

"Hello world, Charlotte here again," Charlotte said to start the video she was recording, in a much more somber tone than her last one. "I'm still in King Street Station in Seattle, because the National Guard aren't letting anybody out, and they're not telling us anything." She thought about mentioning what the two distraught mothers had told her, but decided to respect their privacy. "I've heard certain reports that have led me to suspect that the illness I mentioned in my last video has actually spread here and that we may actually be in some sort of quarantine. Now, a bunch more National Guard guys have showed up and there now has to be a hundred of them here." She paused and took a deep breath, keeping her concerned tears away. "I think there's actually something seriously bad happening right now and I'm gonna try and do more digging for any sort of reports on this. This is Charlotte Brody, of CBInternet, signing off." She then stopped her recording, composed herself, and made her way back to the main area.

Her camera was Wi-Fi enabled, meaning that she could upload her videos directly to the internet from her camera, but that obviously meant she needed a signal. While she instantly uploaded her last video without an issue, this time she had no signal whatsoever, meaning that not only could she not upload her video, but more urgently, she couldn't get any information on this illness and what else may be going on. She pulled out her phone to confirm, and sure enough, she still couldn't get online. However, she still had cell service to her phone, so she made a call.

"Hello honey," the voice said warmly, "how are you?"

"Hey Mom," Charlotte said with a slight smile, "I'm fine, but I'm in King Street Station."

"Dammit," Charlotte's mother said with concern. "I heard about it on the news. At least, it went by on the bottom of the screen, because the anchors keep talking about this weird disease or something."

"What have they said?" Charlotte was eager to hear.

"Not much; they don't really know what it IS. All they're saying is that some people are biting other people. One guy said it's some new form of anarchist movement or some bullshit."

Charlotte was unnerved. "Okay, well, could you do me a favor? There's no internet here in this station, so could you maybe do some digging for me?"

Her mother sighed. "I'll try, but you know I'm not good with computers, honey."

Charlotte rolled her eyes with a grin. "Just follow the 'Breaking News' buttons and see what you can find."

"Okay sweetie, just be careful, okay? If anything goes wrong you just keep your head down, alright?"

"You really think I'm gonna hide from a story?"

Her mother sighed again. "Just don't get hurt."

"Thanks Mom. I love you."

"Love you too honey, buh-bye." Then, they hung up. Knowing her mother's technological difficulties, she started walking around the station, hoping that any sort of signal would come in.

…

"Jesus Christ!" She yelled in her Scottish brogue as she was forced into a booth the Guardsmen decided to use as a makeshift jail cell. "Is this really necessary?"

"Ma'am, you were making a scene and being belligerent, you've got no one but yourself to blame. We'll let you out in a while."

"C'mon Goddammit, this is such shite!" The soldier ignored her and walked off. She tried to open the door, but it was zip-tied shut. As she took a deep breath, she noticed there was another booth next to her. And there were three men inside.

"At least you get your own," one of the men asked, annoyed.

The man who addressed her was in his mid-thirties, and he was wearing a black beanie, a light tan jacket, and green cargo pants, and had a long chinbeard. Standing on his right was a man around the same age, but with five-o'clock shadow and was wearing merely a blue t-shirt and jeans. Standing behind them was a young man no older than twenty, who wore glasses and an all-black ensemble.

"Uh…" she stated awkwardly, "hi?"

The same man addressed her again. "Hi. I'm Ben. What's your name?"

After a moment of thought, she finally replied, "Alice. Alice McTavish."

"Nice to meet you, Alice. What brings you here?"

"They're searching everyone, and it kinda felt like a guard was groping me leg a little too long."

Ben laughed. "Sorry about that. But, that seems to be the way of the world now. Now, you get what our military is like."

"Where are you from?" The younger man asked.

The third man turned to him. "Danny, does that really matter?"

"Shut up Henry, I'm curious."

"Uhh," Alice started, "I'm from Edinburgh. Scotland. I'm here on holiday."

"Goddammit," Danny said, turning away in concern.

"What?" Alice was confused.

He turned back. "You brought this here!"

"The fuck?!"

"Holy shit…" Henry said, shocked. "You're right."

"What the hell are you idiots talkin' about?"

"There's an outbreak!" Danny snapped back. "Something going on in Europe…you just brought it here, and now we're all trapped here because of you."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Ben said, motioning for everyone to calm down. "Let's just take it easy, okay? We don't know everything yet."

"Thank you," Alice said, feeling at ease.

"A lot people come in and out of this country every day…we just gotta keep an eye out."

Alice lost that feeling of ease. "What do you mean?"

Ben continued. "Scotland is a nice place. Not a lot of sickness there. But if we see someone who came here from Mexico, or Africa, I think they should do a little more thorough searching."

Alice tilted her head in annoyance. "You're telling me everywhere in America is squeaky clean?"

Ben laughed. "If you think that's what it's all about, you're wrong. I'm not racist or anything, it's just that biologically, some things from foreign countries don't belong in our soil. Like, you can't plant certain seeds from south of the Equator in America because it'll cause a bad chemical reaction. That's all I'm concerned about."

Alice could sense that it was a little more deeply rooted than that, but decided it wasn't worth it. "Whatever, man. What're you even in here for anyways?"

Ben smirked. "We met, we were chatting for a while, then this kid offers us weed and we went into the bathroom to smoke up. Then a soldier came in, took the weed, and had us sent here."

"There's no doubt he took my weed for himself," Danny said in frustration.

At that moment, two Guardsmen came in. One was the same one who had sent all of them to their "cells", but none of them recognized the other. Alice looked at his name on his uniform as he spoke.

"Bigger fish to fry here," Sgt. Thompson said, berating the other man. He then turned to the prisoners. "Are you all sorry?" He asked in an exasperated tone; everyone nodded. "Good. Now let 'em out." The other soldier then removed the zip-ties and let all four of them out. Sgt. Thompson then escorted them to the main area in front of the station, where almost everyone was converged.

…

"Things are getting fucked man," Quentin said to Ryan and Ethan, "those soldiers ain't even letting people outside to smoke anymore. Something's going on out there."

"What do you think it is?" Ethan asked.

"I don't know, but it's looking better inside this shitty-ass place every Goddamn second."

"Bullshit," Ryan interjected. "If something IS going on out there, we have a right to know what it is." He paused to ponder for a moment, and as he looked in no direction in particular, someone caught his eye.

"Jesus Christ," he said, spotting a pretty biracial woman in her mid-twenties about fifty feet away, "that's Charlotte Brody."

"Who?" Quentin and Ethan asked in unison.

"She's a blogger. Blew the lid off that Malcolm guy, proved he killed a woman. She LIVES for unsettling shit like this." He paused again. "We should talk to her, see if she's figured out anything we haven't."

"Fuck it," Quentin said with a shrug, "let's see what we can get out of her." All three men then stood up and approached Charlotte.

"Excuse me," Ryan politely called out to her as she continued searching for a signal, "you're Charlotte Brody of CBInternet, right?"

Charlotte was caught off guard; this wasn't the place she expected to get recognized by someone. "Um, yeah, that's me." She paused awkwardly. "Sorry, I don't get recognized on the street too often…I mean, we're not in a street, but…you know what I mean."

"Look, I've seen a few of your videos, and I know you're committed to the truth no matter what, so please tell me you've figured out what's going on here."

Charlotte sighed. "Well, I've been trying, but I can't even get service on my phone anymore. They've got the clock tower guarded so that's out, and I don't smoke so I can't go outside to check out there for one."

"They ain't even letting us do THAT anymore," Quentin added.

"Great," Charlotte said sarcastically, now all the smokers are gonna stink up the bathroom; it'll be just like my old high school."

"WAIT THAT'S IT!" Ethan enthusiastically jumped in. "When I was in the bathroom, I noticed there was a window. It's high up and it's pretty tight, but I think it'll lead out of here."

"You do realize I wouldn't exactly be…WELCOME in there, right?"

"We'll wait till the coast is clear," Ryan said reassuringly. "Also, if it's too tight, I ain't getting through it anyway. I'll lift you all up to get out."

"I'm not sure if I could," Quentin noted, "I'll have to check it out."

"I think Charlotte's our best bet," Ethan observed. "You're clearly the smallest of us." He and Quentin weren't as muscular as Ryan and were both actually rather scrawny, but they were both average height. Charlotte, meanwhile, stood at 5'3 and weighed a hundred and twenty pounds; she acknowledged the accuracy of his remark with an affirmative shrug.

"Okay," she said eagerly. "Let's do this. Which bathroom was it?"

Ethan led the other three to the bathroom, and Quentin went in first to see if it was empty. After finding that it was, the rest of the group came inside.

"Quentin, could you keep a lookout outside?" Ryan asked.

"Sure thing man," Quentin said with a nod, and then he walked out of the bathroom. Meanwhile, Charlotte examined the window, over the stall furthest from the door; it was gonna be tight alright, but she decided that she could do it.

"Alright guys quick," she said with authority, "let's get this done." Ryan and Ethan then lifted her up (although it was mostly Ryan as his reach was higher), and she unlatched the window and pushed it open as far as it would go, which unfortunately was only halfway. It was gonna be tighter than she had anticipated. Worse, she had gone from having very little room to turn around, to none at all, meaning that she'd have to drop head-first eight feet to the ground. "Dammit, help me down!" Ryan and Ethan obliged.

"I don't know if you can fit through there," Ryan said, exasperated.

Charlotte stared at the window with determination. "I can, but I need to go through feet-first or I'll break my neck."

"How do you plan on doing that? There's nothing to hang onto, no ledge, nothing."

Charlotte sighed. "You're gonna have to lift me upside-down." After explaining what she meant, Ryan grabbed her by her shoulders and Ethan grabbed her legs, and Ethan pointed her feet upwards and Ryan pushed her up. After bracing herself on the wall against Ryan, Ethan let go of her legs and stood next to Ryan, and they both pushed on her shoulders as she faced them and "walked" backwards up the wall. Once she was the height of the window, she eased one foot through, and after being assured that they had her securely, she put her other foot through. Ryan then began pushing her until enough of her body was out the window that she wouldn't fall.

Meanwhile, outside, Quentin saw someone approaching the bathroom. Worse yet, a Guardsman. Calmly, he walked into the bathroom so he wouldn't draw suspicion. "Guys!" He was talking quietly, but frantically. "There's a soldier coming!"

"Shit," Charlotte said, aware of how compromising her position is, "push harder!" Ryan and Ethan pushed as hard as they could, which mildly scraped her as she passed over the uneven port where the window rests when closed, until finally, she could support her own weight. "Good, now look un-suspicious!" Ryan and Quentin walked over to the sinks, and Ethan closed the door to the stall as Charlotte desperately tried to squeeze herself through the window.

As Ryan washed his hands, he heard the bathroom door open. He inconspicuously looked into the mirror and saw that Charlotte had gotten out. He smiled, then grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands. He then threw the paper towel away, nodded politely at the soldier who had come in to also wash his hands, and then left. Quentin finished up, and left a few seconds later. Ethan decided to stay in the stall and wait for the soldier to leave.

Outside, Charlotte dropped down to the ground; the landing stung her feet a bit, but it didn't do any damage. After surveying the scene – she was in a waiting area on an abandoned part of the platform – as well as checking to make sure she was alone, she pulled her phone out and resumed her search for a signal, and made her way around the outside portion of the station.

…

Despite having only been at the station for an hour, Sgt. Thompson was ushering Devin back to Engine 4197.

"There's another unit at East Auburn Station," Sgt. Thompson said, "we need to pick them up and bring them here because we're starting to get overwhelmed by the number of people here."

"You really think having more armed soldiers is gonna calm these people down?" Devin asked incredulously.

Sgt. Thompson was annoyed. "Just do your job and let me do mine, okay?" Devin rolled his eyes, and they entered the cab of the train's engine car. Devin went through the process of powering up the train, and once it was ready, he sat down and pushed the throttle.

Charlotte, having overheard them as she hid behind a concrete bench, was contemplating her next move: should she keep roaming the station in what was becoming an increasingly hopeless search for a signal, or board the train and risk being caught? If it was just the two men in the cab, she thought, she'd probably be okay, but with them picking up several more soldiers, it just wasn't smart, so she decided to stay at the station. Unfortunately for her, she heard a door behind her open; she quickly scampered over the bench to hide from the soldiers exiting. Then, she heard the train start moving. Praying that there was a closet onboard that she could hide in, she ran alongside the train and opened the door to one of the cars, getting inside before the train got up to speed. She then began looking for a place to hide, while being quietly impressed with herself for her ability to sneak around.

Back in the cabin, Devin gradually got the train up to forty-five miles an hour.

"This track," Sgt. Thompson said, "it also carries the Empire Builder, right?" The Empire Builder was a cross-country train that travels from Seattle all the way to Chicago, a roughly two-day trip.

"The track split for the Empire Builder was a little ways back," Devin explained, "but yes, it does leave the same platform as this train."

"Okay, well we may need to use this train as a shuttle; hopefully, a safer place will be established near the tracks. That station isn't gonna last much longer and we'll need to get those people out of there."

Devin sighed with annoyance. "Why would you round all those people up in a place you couldn't maintain?"

"It all happened so quick, we didn't really have time to shop around. And I didn't say it was imminently unsafe, I meant that we'll find a safer place. Something with more breathing room, if nothing else."

Devin couldn't shake the feeling that the sergeant wasn't telling him the whole story, but he knew prying further wouldn't get him anywhere. "A few more minutes till East Auburn." He focused on the track ahead, as Thompson pulled out his radio to inform the unit at the station that the train was en route.

Meanwhile, in one of the passenger cars, Charlotte found a small utility closet that she could fit into for when the other soldiers boarded, but until then, she maintained her search for a signal. Finally receiving one, she got online, and it didn't take long for her to start seeing the traumatizing headlines: "MASS CANNIBALISM PANDEMIC", "THE DEAD ARE RISEN", "NEARLY INVINCIBLE MUTATIONS", "POSSIBLE ALIEN INVASION?", "THE END IS NIGH!" She then clicked on a video link to a police officer's dash-cam footage, and watched in horror as the officer fired seven bullets into the torso of an awkwardly lumbering man whose mouth was covered in blood; despite the continuous stream of shots, the man stumbled to the officer, and pushed him onto the hood of the police car and proceeded to bite the officer's jugular vein as he screamed in agony. Charlotte closed the video, almost in tears by what she just witnessed. Then, she realized the train was starting to slow down, meaning it was approaching the station; quickly composing herself, she ran over to the closet and squeezed herself inside.

East Auburn Station was just starting to come into view for Devin, when he noticed something: the platform was empty. Sgt. Thompson noticed it as well. "What the hell? They checked in already, said they were waiting for pickup." He pulled out his radio. "Valley, this is Thompson, verifying East Auburn Station pickup because I'm not seeing anybody, over." No response. "Sergeant Valley, this is Sergeant Thompson, please respond, over."

Devin slowed the train for the approach to the station. "I don't like this, Sergeant…" he said apprehensively. As the train arrived at East Auburn Station, the two men visually scanned the area, and saw a large group of people standing in the station's parking lot. Hearing the loud humming of the train's engine, the majority of the group turned to face it.

"Oh shit," Sgt. Thompson said in horror.

"Fuck me," Devin said with an equal amount of horror.

Both men realized that this was a large group of walkers; most of them were in civilian clothes, but a few were in Guardsmen uniforms, indicating that the unit was overrun. Thompson was able to recognize Sgt. Valley among the horde, with a large chunk of flesh ripped out of his neck.

"Get us back to the city NOW!" Thompson ordered, barely able to keep himself from a meltdown. Devin started flipping switches, which wasn't fast enough for Thompson. "Just back this Goddamn thing up!"

"It's not a fucking car, there's a process to reversing this thing!"

"Well hurry up!"

Inside the utility closet, Charlotte had heard the train stop, and had been expecting to hear the soldiers boarding the train, but she wasn't. For a second, she thought maybe they just hadn't boarded this car (it _was_ one of the last cars, after all), but then she suddenly heard a violent slam on the outside of the train, which jolted her. After that, she started hearing weird growling and snarling, and after some thought decided to take a look. She exited the closet and peeked over at the windows, and was horrified at the sight of several of the exact same lumbering freaks she had just watched on video. One of them spotted her, and started growling and snarling directly at her while slamming on the window, prompting her to run back into the closet, where she finally began to cry. "This is the end," she said to herself in terror. Suddenly, the train began to move again, in the direction of King Street Station.

The train began chugging in reverse and the walkers on the platform tried to grab onto it, with inevitable non-success. Some fell off the platform onto the tracks and stared at the train leaving; Sgt. Valley was one of them, and Sgt. Thompson could only stare at him in shock.

Devin could sense that the sergeant was deeply shaken by seeing so many of his fellow soldiers dead, so he tried to take his mind off of it. "I can back us up down the track a ways," he said, "but we're gonna need to get to the other side of the train so I can gauge the approach back to King Street." Thompson just nodded in silence.

After backing up about a half mile, Devin stopped the train, flipped a few switches, and he and Thompson exited the cabin. Not wanting to risk something coming out of the woods and sneaking up in the dark, they decided to run through the train instead of along the outside of it.

"This is so fucked", Devin said as they ran. "If those things break into the station, all those people are gonna die. They took down an armed unit of soldiers for Chrissakes!"

"I know I know," Thompson said, "I'm gonna see what I can do. Until then, you just be at the ready to move this train if things go to hell."

"They already have!" Devin said as they passed through the car that Charlotte was hiding in. "All you've done is create a buffet for those fuckers!"

"No matter what, I won't just let that happen."

They made the rest of their way to the now-front of the train in silence. They entered the cabin, and Devin got the train moving.

Once she felt the train in motion again, Charlotte exited the closet, knowing there was no one left to hide from. She went to a row of seats and sat down, still struggling to comprehend what she'd seen. Suddenly, her phone rang; it was her mother.

"Mom?" She said, answering. "Are you okay?"

"Honey," her mother said, with clear distress in her voice, "whatever's happening right now is serious. I don't know what it is but it's not good. Please be safe."

"I know Mom. I've seen it. Things are about to boil over here. I don't—"

"I'm trapped in the house, Charlotte. There's a lot of them outside and they're trying to break the door down. I called 911 but the lines were busy...I don't think I'm gonna get out."

Charlotte nearly collapsed. "Mom, no…just fight your way through. C'mon, you can do it! PLEASE!"

"Just be careful, sweetheart." Charlotte could hear her mother crying. "Just push through whatever this is until it ends. I know you can, because you are smart, and you are brave, and you are so strong." She paused. "I love you so much, Charlotte. I love you so—" Suddenly, the line went dead.

"Mom?" Charlotte reeled in devastated terror. "Mom?! MOM!" She pulled her phone away from her ear and looked at the screen, which now read "NO SIGNAL". She then collapsed to the floor of the train in tears.

In the front of the train, Devin and Sgt. Thompson stared ahead at the Seattle skyline, which suddenly went totally dark. "Oh shit," Devin said, concerned.

"We set up generators in the event the power went out," Thompson replied, hoping to reassure Devin; it failed.

"Just thought of everything, huh?" Devin came back, rolling his eyes.

"Do I need to explain again how we're doing our best?"

Devin sighed. "No."

…

At King Street, the station had been plunged into total and complete darkness by the blackout for almost a full minute. A couple of Guardsmen fiddled around with the generators to get them working, and soon enough, the lights were back on.

"Goddamn it," Chris said to Bill, "I don't have any service anymore, do you?"

"No I got nothing," Bill replied.

"Shit…" Chris was starting to panic. "I didn't wanna call my wife again, I figured she was probably asleep…fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Nearby, Ben shared similar sentiments. "This is such bullshit! This ain't a free welfare phone from some shitty convenience store in the ghetto, it's supposed to have total coverage! What the fuck am I paying this much money for?"

Quentin overheard him, and wanted to address his thinly-veiled racist comment, but decided it wasn't the time. Instead, he turned his attention back to Ryan and Ethan. "I think they got Charlotte, she's been gone too long."

"She probably just wanted to escape this place," Ethan surmised. "Can't say I blame her."

"That's not what I mean," Quentin clarified. "I meant that maybe she got tangled up in whatever the hell's going on outside. Maybe she's hurt, or maybe even worse, shit."

Ryan looked at the ground sadly. "I don't think there's anything we can do for her at this point."

Near the main entrance to the station, which had been barricaded since everyone was brought in, people were starting to argue with the soldiers.

"What right do you have to keep all these people locked in?!" Gordon raged. "Unless you give us a good reason, we want out! Some of us have families!" (He didn't, but he figured the soldiers didn't need to know that.)

"Sir," a soldier said angrily, "I already told you, it's classified and you're all being kept here for your own safety!"

"Bullshit!" Victor yelled as he threw an empty water bottle at the soldier; it bounced off the soldier's elbow pad while he was facing away from Victor, so he didn't even know it happened. However, Henry saw it.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" Henry said, angrily confronting Victor. "I served two years in Iraq, don't you DARE attempt to assault one of my brothers!"

"Well maybe if your brother wasn't bein' such a bitch not lettin' us out, I wouldn't have to!" Henry then punched Victor in the face, and Victor charged Henry, and the two began fighting in the midst of the crowd; Josh put himself between the two of them to break up the fight, and two soldiers then ran up and pulled the men apart.

"Don't y'all go making this worse than it already is!" Josh yelled out as one of the soldiers waved him off and away from the situation.

Over in the triage area, Danielle walked up to Greta and Elaine, to try and comfort them. "I don't know what's going on," she said, "but just stay here for now, okay?" As she walked away, Greta spoke up.

"Those things are here, aren't they?" She asked ominously. "The things that killed my children?"

Danielle paused, trying to think of the right thing to say. "I don't know. All I know is that I'm just here to treat anyone who needs it."

"Those things can't get in here," Elaine said, "or they'll try to do to all of us what they did to my daughter."

"Look," Danielle said, "you're safe for now. If anything changes, my priority will be telling the both of you, but just try and stay calm for the time being." She then walked away from them and over to Dr. Vaughn.

"A fight almost just broke out," he said, "and that's gonna keep happening."

"You think we're about to get a wave of new patients?"

"No. I think there's about to be a wave of stupidity that takes that front door down."

…

Outside, engine 4197 pulled up to the station. A Guardsman was on the platform waiting to update Thompson on the situation.

"What's the status in there?" Thompson asked.

"They're getting restless, sir. A couple of fights have already broken out, tensions are high; honestly, backup came just in time."

Thompson paused. "No…it didn't. Valley and his crew were either dead or gone when we got to the station."

The soldier shook his head. "Sorry to hear that sir." He then turned and walked, looking somewhat defeated, back into the station.

Sgt. Thompson put his hands over his face as Devin exited the train. "I don't know what to do now," Thompson said to Devin.

Devin didn't know how to respond. "Neither do I." He paused. "Look, I'm just gonna go do my inspection while you figure it out." Thompson nodded, and Devin walked toward the train engine. As he passed by one of the passenger cars, something caught his eye: a woman curled up in the fetal position.

Charlotte didn't care anymore about being seen by anyone, so she wasn't at all surprised when the door opened and a man came in.

"Who the hell are you?" Devin asked, still surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Charlotte slowly looked up at him, sat upright, and stared in defiance. "My job."


	4. Motivation

"NOOO! GET AWAY!" The man was attempting to outrun a large swarm of what he could only describe as mindless, demonic freaks. Finding himself otherwise surrounded, he realized his only option was to climb the chain-link fence behind him. He started climbing the fence, but froze in horror at the sight of the barbed wire at the top. And that moment of hesitation was enough for one of the monsters to grab his leg, and for another to bite it right on his femoral artery. He screamed in horrific pain and kicked both of them away, and climbed the rest of the fence, cutting his hands on the wire as he got over the top of it. As he began his descent down the fence, the massive blood loss in his leg caught up to him, and he fell to the ground, passed out, and died, barely two minutes after the bite. Twenty-four minutes later, the man began stirring, now another mindless creature like what had bitten him. He, now an "it", began figuring out how to stand up, and before it could completely figure out how, a loud and fast behemoth roared past it. Now finding biological motivation, it got to its feet, and began wandering along the train tracks, following the red tail lights of engine 4197.

…

Sgt. Thompson leaned against a pillar on the station platform, utterly lost. In the decade he had been a soldier, he had never doubted his decision to enlist, but the thought of a disaster of this magnitude never even remotely occurred to him. Now he was responsible for the lives of not only fifty fellow soldiers, but nearly five hundred civilians as well…"This isn't the time to panic," he said to himself. "Do your job." He took a deep breath, and stepped away from the pillar, and saw Devin approaching, having finished his inspection.

"Everything's in order," he told Thompson, "but there's someone you'll probably wanna talk to." As Devin spoke, he never broke stride as he walked back into the train, so Sgt. Thompson was unable to ask who he could possibly be referring to. He decided to head down to the other end of the platform to investigate, and as he walked, a woman staggered out of the train in front of him.

He instinctively raised his M4 assault rifle at her. "Stop! Put your hands up!"

Charlotte raised her hands with an indignant grimace. "Thought only cops said that," she quipped.

Sgt. Thompson was confused. "Who are you?"

"Charlotte Brody. Of CBInternet." The sergeant just stared, still confused. "Y'know, like CB radio? Except…modernized…because I'm on the…internet…" She realized the fruitlessness and awkwardness of her explanation. "Never mind."

"What the hell are you doing here? How long have you been on the train?"

"I hopped on when it was leaving here." She paused. "And yeah, I saw them."

"Goddammit…"

"I'm a journalist. The internet was blocked in the station so I had to improvise."

"No!" He snapped. "You were SUPPOSED to follow our instructions, and stay in the station!"

She sighed. "I saw them, and I saw what they do." The sergeant stared pensively at her, as she continued. "Look, I'm not stupid, okay? I know that if you tell everyone in there about those things, best-case scenario is that they think you're a joke and stop respecting your authority. Worst-case, they panic, and people get hurt or worse. I understand why you're keeping it from them, but you need to understand something else."

"And what would that be?" He asked with a hint of impatience.

"You can't keep it from them forever. And when they find out, they're gonna be pissed that you kept it from them. You ARE doing the right thing keeping them in the dark for now, but when they find out, they're not gonna be immediately rational."

Thompson no longer had merely a hint of impatience. "Are you actually trying to make a suggestion, or even a POINT?"

"Get them on this train and get them outta here. Break the news to them somewhere out of immediate danger, because this train station? It isn't safe."

Sgt. Thompson sighed. "Look, I hear you, alright? But I'm not the one giving orders, at least not orders of evacuation barring an imminent breach. Plus, between my men and the civilians, there are almost six hundred people in there so it's not like I can do anything swiftly."

"Then start now! I'm telling you, there IS an imminent breach, and those—"

"I'll take it under advisement, okay? Nevertheless, you're still a civilian, so get back inside with the rest of them. There'll be a guard at the door; just say you're with Sgt. Thompson, he won't give you any static. But please, just go."

Charlotte merely nodded, and walked to the door as Thompson started pacing around the platform, contemplating the right move. He worried that any course of action he took would result in chaos and ultimately disaster. When Charlotte opened the door into the station, he could hear the roar of the crowd inside, nearly on the verge of a riot; Charlotte looked over at him, to see his response to the loud clatter inside, and he merely put his hand over his face and turned away, which unsettled her greatly as she walked inside, not being greeted by a guard as Thompson had expected. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he finally walked back inside.

…

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOORS!" Gordon was at his limit, and the crowd gathering around him was now rallying behind him. Though it wasn't his intent, he was garnering support and was starting to be looked at as a leader. Josh, Alice, Ryan, Quentin, and Ethan all stood by him, ready to back him up if need be, and many others gradually started to gravitate towards his authoritative tone.

"LAST WARNING!" Corporal Wilson, the most vocal soldier at the main entrance, was reaching his own limit. "GET BACK OR I WILL OPEN FIRE!"

Danielle and Dr. Vaughn looked on helplessly. "Oh sweet Jesus…" Danielle said with a worried sigh.

"We just have to go," Dr. Vaughn said. "We don't need to be stuck here in this. We're medical personnel, they'll let us out."

"We can't abandon everyone here!" Danielle was disgusted by his cowardice. "Besides, what makes you think they'd even let us out at all?"

Dr. Vaughn paused for a moment to think, and saw Greta and Elaine standing nearby. "Them."

"What?"

"We tell the soldiers we need to get them special care. We'll say they need to go to an actual hospital. They have a medic, he can stay here to help whoever needs it."

"What are you talking about?" Greta interjected, aware that she was a pawn in the conversation.

"C'mon," he said, "I'm getting you two out of here."

"You're actually going to abandon all these people?" Danielle was increasingly aghast. "You absolute fucking coward."

"Don't speak to me like that. You wanna stay, fine, but I'm getting out of here because maybe there are other people out there I can really help." He turned to Greta and Elaine. "C'mon, let's go."

"I'm not going out there," Elaine said, as a quiver came through her voice. "I saw those things…I saw what they do…"

Dr. Vaughn was getting even more annoyed. "Look, the hospital is safer than this place. It's only four blocks away, we'll make it."

"No!" Greta said, starting to cry again. "I won't go near anymore of those things…"

Dr. Vaughn suddenly kicked a small table in frustration. "Fucking worthless!" He then stormed off; Danielle turned to console the two still-grieving mothers.

Back by the entrance, Ben was also making his voice heard; Henry and Danny remained by his side. "You don't have the right to keep us here! It's a free country; we wanna leave, we can leave. So step aside and let us out of here!"

Cpl. Wilson turned to Ben. "I have a RESPONSIBILITY to keep you all in here!"

Gordon spoke back up. "So you're gonna keep us safe by shooting us?" The crowd cheered for his words; Ben was irritated that he wasn't getting the crowd's support, but he decided that if he ultimately got out, he'd get over it.

Gordon continued. "You either gotta let us out, or you gotta tell us why we need to stay here!"

Charlotte climbed to the upper level of the station, taking in the gravity of the panic setting in amongst the crowd. She felt bad for all the soldiers for the tension of this situation, but she still felt that everyone deserved to know why they were here. She scanned the crowd, noting the two men (Gordon and Ben) who were becoming the most vocal protesters, and saw her cohorts Ryan, Quentin, and Ethan standing near one of those men. She was torn; she wanted to let them know she was okay, but wasn't sure how to break the news of the monsters to them. As she was lost in confused contemplation, Quentin happened to glance up in her direction.

"Oh shit," he said to Ryan and Ethan, gesturing towards her, "she's back."

Ryan nodded. "Ethan, you go talk to her, we'll stay here to back this guy up if we have to." Ethan nodded back at him, and made his way to Charlotte. She saw that he was coming, and she knew she was past the point of no return and would have to tell him something.

Ethan went up the stairs and made his way to her. "Thank god," he said, relieved. "Where were you? What happened? Did you get any info?"

The weight of what she knew was finally starting to become clear. Charlotte knew that whether she told the truth or not, she had invited some of the liability onto herself. She took a deep breath, and decided her words. "Ethan," she said softly, "there's something real bad going on out there. I can't get into it because I literally don't even know how, but right now all that matters, is convincing these people we need to get on that train and just leave. If we can convince enough people, the soldiers will load everyone up."

Ethan was confused. "What the hell? What's going on out there?"

Charlotte closed her eyes in involuntary exasperation. "Ethan…just trust me on this, okay? Trust me when I say the only part I can explain is that it's bad."

As they went back and forth, Danny had noticed them from downstairs near Ben, having what seemed to be an intense conversation. He could sense that she knew something, and decided to investigate. He quietly slipped away from his new buddies and made his way up to them, out of sight but close enough to hear them.

"Dammit you're a journalist!" Ethan said. "You have to report on what you find, isn't that like the Hippocratic oath or something?"

"First of all," Charlotte said with an almost audible eyeroll, "that's for doctors. Second, I'm NOT a professional journalist. I started investigating things on my own, and it's not my fault if I'm better at it than the 'real' ones are. Finally, my devotion is to public interest and safety, and right now, we aren't safe, so we need to get on the train. THAT is what matters right now."

Danny heard enough to justify being suspicious. He ran back to inform Ben. "Hey man," he said as he tapped on Ben's shoulder.

Ben turned around in irritation until he saw who it was. "What is it?"

"Up there," he said, motioning to Charlotte and Ethan. "That girl up there knows something we don't."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Henry asked, butting in.

Danny proceeded to relay what he'd heard to both of them. "We should go up there and try and get it out of her," he concluded.

Ben eyed Charlotte hard. What did she know that no one else did? "Okay." He started walking to the stairs, and Danny & Henry followed suit.

Upstairs, the argument continued. "Listen Ethan, we just need to focus right now, and convince the soldiers that we need to get out of here or else there will be panic and chaos and bad decisions!"

"And why would that be?" A new voice asked. Charlotte and Ethan both turned their attention to the source of the sound: a tall bearded man, who had two friends flanking him. "I'd very much like for you to elaborate," Ben said, "after all, that's what journalists do, right? Tell the truth, or whatever you wanna call the truth at that moment?"

Charlotte could sense he was trying to intimidate her, but she was unfazed. "I'm not gonna say something that endangers people's lives. There's a time and place, and I will share what I know when it is opportune, but right now, you should help me convince everyone that we need to get on the train!"

Ben shook his head, with an angry grimace on his face. "You people are unbelievable. We're supposed to TRUST the media, yet they serve us bullshit and assume we won't smell anything. The fact that you think we're that stupid is an insult."

"Listen Limbaugh, I'm not in the mood to get into an ethical discussion with you about journalistic integrity, although if it makes you feel better I work independently online, not one of the mainstream media outlets I'm sure you rant about whenever you can."

"The outbreak…" Danny said softly, before upping the volume. "That outbreak in Europe! That's what this is, isn't it?!" Charlotte's eyes widened slightly; just enough for Ben to notice.

Ethan was confused again. "What? Outbreak? What's happening?"

Ben smirked. "So it IS that, huh? Son of a bitch…"

"What's really happening here?" Ethan asked softly but worriedly, as he turned to Charlotte. She was now getting frazzled as she weighed her current options, as the three strangers' respective postures became visibly more impatient. Finally, she sighed as a response came to her.

"The outbreak…" she began, before pausing for a few seconds to fine-tune her words, "the outbreak is affecting people in…violent ways. It's giving people an urge to attack and kill others, and whoever comes down with it, seems to turn into the same thing." She paused again, silently reassuring herself that she hadn't technically lied to them. "It's like a Hulk plague; you get infected and you just attack. That's why we're all in here."

Ben just stared for a moment, and finally broke out laughing. Danny and Henry quickly followed suit. "Wow," Ben said as his laughter subsided, "what an absolute load of horseshit!"

"Please," Charlotte begged, "just trust me. I didn't wanna say it because I'm well aware that it sounds unreal. But it is, and if you try and force your way out, you'll be endangering everyone in here. And if you tell everyone, you'll cause either a panic or a buttload of disbelief, and both lead to the same level of danger." She took a deep breath. "THAT is why I'm asking you to just trust me, and keep this among just us."

Ben shook his head with a bemused smirk. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna say a fucking word." He paused; she sighed with relief. "Because I don't believe you, and I'm leaving right now. C'mon boys, let's move!" The three of them turned and went down the stairs towards the platform, which was deserted by the civilians (as everyone was demanding to get out through the front door, since there was no street access from the platform), and only guarded by one Guardsman, a fresh recruit sent over by Sgt. Thompson after finding the door unmanned.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" The young soldier asked with firmness.

"Yeah," Ben replied curtly, "you can let us out of here."

"Doesn't need to be any problems here kid," Henry jumped in. "I know you're just doing your job, but you've been lied to about why you're doing it. So just let us out."

"Sorry," the soldier replied, "but the platform is closed just like the front. Now get back to the others before I call my sergeant over here."

"He's already here," Sgt. Thompson yelled from behind, with Charlotte by his side. "Listen fellas, I let you out of holding in good faith, so the least you can do is not make me regret doing so."

Ben stared inquisitively, both at Thompson and at Charlotte, and started to doubt his sureness about her story being a lie. "Listen Sarge," he said calmly, "we know. She told us everything."

Thompson stared at Charlotte, annoyed. But she stood her ground. "First of all, these three weren't very subtle with their threats. Second of all…" She turned to Ben. "A minute ago, you didn't believe me."

"I don't," Ben snapped back, "which is why I want out. But just because I don't believe you, doesn't mean no one else will. I've been staring at these idiots for hours now, and they seem just dumb enough to believe some bullshit by a sensationalist blogger pretending she's a fucking JOURNALIST!"

"Go fuck yourself!" Ryan yelled, having arrived with Quentin and Ethan after the latter informed them of the situation. "She knows what she's talking about. Far more than you do, I bet."

Ben laughed in disbelief as Thompson tried to shoo him away. "Are you serious? Do YOU even know what's going on? Last I checked, you weren't there when Katie fucking Couric told us about the outbreak!"

Thompson closed his eyes tightly in annoyance as Ryan stared, clearly shocked. "What outbreak?" Quentin asked, also surprised and confused.

"Sir?" The young soldier butt in. "What are they talking about?"

Thompson turned to the soldier. "Not now Hall! Do your damn job as you're told!" He turned back to the civilians around him. "There's privileged information that none of you are privy to, at least not at this time. And if I have to have you ALL locked up until then, I won't hesitate to do it. So either go back with the others and keep your mouths shut, or I'll have you all detained!"

Ben refused to back down, but was also now convinced that Charlotte may have actually been telling the truth, at least to an extent. "Let us out, or we go public." Thompson went for his radio to call for backup, but Ben stopped him by grabbing his arms, and Henry restrained Private Hall. Ben was taller than the sergeant, but he wasn't a soldier and therefore knew that he couldn't hold him for long. "DANNY! Open the door!"

As Danny went to follow Ben's orders, Thompson broke Ben's grip and punched him in the face, staggering him. Thompson then charged Danny and body-checked him right to the ground, and as Thompson went for his zip-ties, Ben ran and tackled him from behind. Thompson managed to stay on his feet, but now Ben was hanging on his back.

Charlotte, Ryan, Ethan, and Quentin all watched as the mayhem unfolded. "Charlotte?" Ryan asked. Charlotte turned to him, and he continued. "How badly does that door need to stay closed?"

She paused for a second. "Very."

Ryan asked because he could tell Danny was gonna try and open the door again as Ben wrestled with Thompson. Sure enough, the young man slowly recovered from Thompson's tackle, and went for the door again. Right as he put his hand on the door again, Ryan grabbed him; Quentin ran over to help him, while Ethan punched Henry to make him release Pvt. Hall. Meanwhile, Ben remained on Thompson's back, arms wrapped around the sergeant's sternum and legs flailing about in the air. Thompson was finally able to properly steady himself, as Ben's movements had left him struggling just to stay on his feet, and ran in reverse towards what he thought was the wall but was in fact the door; Ben was still forced off the sergeant's back, and fell just beyond the threshold into the platform area. Before he could completely recover, Thompson grabbed him by his leg and pulled him back inside the station. "Close the door!" Thompson yelled to anyone up to the task as he was preoccupied with restraining Ben. Pvt. Hall, successfully released from Henry's grip thanks to Ethan's assistance and who had been helping Ethan to restrain him, went to the door in an effort to close it. Unfortunately, Sgt. Thompson accidentally slamming Ben into it snapped the latch off, and as a result of Hall's frantic state, he didn't notice the door fail to properly seal and ultimately drift slightly ajar.

As Thompson finally managed to zip-tie Ben's wrists, he noticed the large crowd that had started to gather around after hearing the commotion; only two fellow Guardsmen were among the crowd, the rest remained at their posts. "Everyone stand back," he ordered, "it's under control!" He ordered Ryan and Quentin to bring the still-restrained Danny over to Private Hall; they did so, and Hall kept his gun trained on the two of them.

"Get up!" Thompson barked as he dragged Ben to his feet, and prepared to order the two soldiers in the crowd to help take the men into custody.

But he didn't get the chance.

…

The freshly-turned creature made its way down the tracks, entranced by the red lights on the horizon from a strange object that had whizzed by earlier. The light had gradually turned to a speck, and then went out. The walls and large fences around the tracks prevented any significant stimuli from diverting the creature for more than a moment before it resumed its trek down the tracks. After nearly two hours of clumsily staggering along, it finally reached King Street Station. It wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes before making its way towards a ramp leading up to the platform. It was a maintenance ramp blocked by a gate that was as high as the creature's waist. Failing to get over the gate, the creature gradually became disinterested and slowly turned itself around, to look for something more worth its time. Suddenly, it heard a loud crash from behind, up on the platform. Its curiosity once again piqued, it turned to the source: it saw a being similar to itself on the ground for a moment, before being pulled inside the large structure next to the being. The creature again worked to climb the gate, this time with a more powerful motivation than mere curiosity: hunger. This proved to be the key element, and it finally stumbled over the gate, and began making its way to where the being was. As it got closer, a commotion became gradually louder and more enticing. It approached a slight opening, deduced it as the source, and stuck its hand in and pulled the door to the King Street Station platform open as it heard a call of "Get up!"

…

Hall kept his attention trained on Henry and Danny, when suddenly, he heard a creak next to him. He instinctively turned to investigate it, and was greeted by the sight of an angry man (or so he thought) who snarled as he grabbed the private's shoulders. It happened so quick, no one, not even Henry and Danny from two feet away, had even processed the event when the creature bit into Hall's neck. As everyone's attention turned to Hall, the young soldier screamed in horror and accidentally fired off his automatic rifle. One of the first few bullets fatally hit Henry almost dead-center in his heart, and the remainder of them went into the crowd, killing a few civilians as well as one of the soldiers, and wounding others, including Charlotte who received a graze on her arm, and Bill who took a bullet to his leg. The rest of the crowd screamed in terror, as Thompson ran to Hall and pulled the walker off of him, despite knowing it was too late. Thompson pulled his pistol out and fired directly into the walker's head, killing it, and then he turned to Hall, who had fallen to the ground clutching his neck with pure terror in his eyes. He tried to speak, but was unable. Thompson figured he was asking for help, but he knew there was only one way to help him. Despite the crowd staring at him, he pointed his gun at Pvt. Hall's forehead, and pulled the trigger to end his suffering, resulting in even louder screams from the crowd.

Gordon, having arrived right as the shots rang out, furiously pushed his way to the front and began yelling at the sergeant. "YOU FUCKING MURDERER! YOU CAN'T DO THIS—" Suddenly, Sgt. Thompson pointed his M9 pistol in the air and fired five more shots to quell the crowd, all of whom ducked or hit the floor.

" **QUIET!** " Thompson yelled at the top of his lungs; the crowd hushed down to the sound of the few people crying. "I'll explain what's happening here, and why you're all here, but right now, we need to get the wounded over to triage, so please, everyone needs to clear a path RIGHT NOW!"

The crowd obliged, as Dr. Vaughn and a Guardsman medic made their way over to the wounded who couldn't be moved, while those who could move were led to Danielle at the triage; Ryan, Quentin, and Ethan walked alongside Charlotte and reassured her with calming words, while Chris put his arm around Bill and helped him limp over to the triage. Meanwhile, Thompson helped Ben to his feet; in the aftermath of the attack and the shooting, Ben's temperament had become considerably more subdued. Thompson pushed Ben over to Danny, who was still crouched over Henry's body.

"Are you gonna lock us back up?" Ben asked, assuming that Thompson would.

Thompson sighed. "I would, but if we have to get out of here quick, I don't wanna have to waste time getting your worthless asses out. So…" He then loosened Ben's zip-tie. "I'm just gonna grant you your wish, and let you leave. Go out the back and hop the fence. C'mon, you wanted out, here's your chance, unless you change your minds." He stared them down; neither man took the offer into consideration. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You two pricks cause any more trouble, I'll throw you out myself. Because all these people that just died here? That's all on you." With that, he walked away, as several Guardsmen began moving the bodies.

…

Sgt. Thompson finished giving to the crowd the same explanation that he had earlier given to Devin. To his surprise, the crowd remained non-confrontational, although many of them were audibly freaking out. Gordon listened intently, and while he now understood the situation, he still had to speak up.

"How many other quarantines are there?" He asked, relatively calm compared to how outspoken he had been already.

"A few others have gone up in the city, and outside it, people are being shuttled to hospitals as well as schools and community centers and other high-volume places until a proper evacuation plan can be enacted. I know this is confusing and you're all probably scared, but we're doing our best and we've got a decent handle on things here. All I ask is that you just work with us. I hope that by telling you all the truth, you'll begin to trust us a little bit more." He looked at Gordon as he finished speaking; Gordon responded with a respectful nod, from one soldier to another.

Sgt. Thompson then walked away, headed for the triage area. As he left, Josh walked up to Gordon. "So what do you think man?" Josh asked, nerves permeating through his tone.

Gordon shrugged. "They finally told us the truth, and just one of those things got over a dozen people killed or shot. I don't think I wanna face more of 'em just yet." He paused. "I think we just need to stay put." Josh nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Thompson walked into the triage and asked for a damage report.

Danielle looked at him somberly. "Ten dead, twelve wounded, three critical."

"Zero critical," Dr. Vaughn said as he arrived, shaking his head. He and the medic couldn't save the three men who were unable to be moved.

The weight began crashing down on Thompson. Two soldiers and eleven civilians were dead, and despite passing the blame to Ben and Danny, he held some of it for himself. He looked over at Charlotte, who was sitting along the wall in the corner of the triage. Greta and Elaine were helping her keep pressure on her grazed arm as she waited for Danielle to be available.

"Are you okay?" The sergeant gently asked.

Charlotte nodded. "It could be worse. Frankly, I imagine the stitches will hurt more."

Thompson kneeled down to her. "You were right," he confessed, "I should've come clean earlier. Maybe if I hadn't kept them in the dark…" He stopped, feeling increasingly guilty.

"There's nothing easy here," Charlotte said, "and I don't know if there was a _right_ way to go about this."

"That's not it," he said with a sigh. "I slammed that asshole into that door. Then that walker got in and…" He paused, trying not to choke up. "If I hadn't done that…"

Charlotte cut him off. "You're not a psychic," she said reassuringly. "No one can foresee things that way."

Thompson took a deep breath, not sure if he agreed with her but appreciating the sentiment nonetheless. "Thank you," he said softly. He then left the triage.

"Walkers…" Greta said flatly. "This can't be real."

"How'd this happen?" Elaine asked. "How'd it fall apart so quickly?"

Charlotte, having been deep in thought since she was shot, decided to speak. "In my bag. There's a camera. I need one of you to film me."

The two ladies were confused. "Are you serious?" Elaine asked.

"Just do it. Just point it at me and let me talk."

Though still confused, Greta reached into Charlotte's backpack and pulled her camera out. Charlotte pointed out the "record" button, and Greta began recording after Charlotte nodded in readiness.

"Hello world, Charlotte here again, still in King Street Station in Seattle. The quarantine is confirmed and no one is getting out of here…" She paused. "Though at this point, no one wants to. Some sort of plague has been killing people, and then turning them into hungry freaks called 'walkers'. One got in here, and that triggered a chain reaction that led to me getting grazed by a bullet. Don't worry, I'll live." She took a deep breath. "Ostensibly, getting bitten or scratched or otherwise infected by these things turns you into one…but I don't think that's it." Greta and Elaine stared in total confusion. "Specifically, that's not the _only_ thing. If it was, that'd be a pretty easy thing to contain. I have a different thought as to what it is though." Greta and Elaine looked at each other, utterly dumbfounded.

"I think it happens no matter how you die."


	5. Break

"Think about it," Charlotte said as she stared into her camera, confident in her horrific impending statements. "A single 'Patient Zero'? That one person would have to bite enough people…that would bite enough other people…that would bite enough OTHER people. It would take minimal effort to quell an outbreak like that; it almost certainly wouldn't be able to cross continents and oceans. Something like that would have trouble crossing the town line." She paused and took a deep breath. "On the other hand, people turning no matter how they die? That would be real catastrophic, REAL quick. A hundred thousand people die every day all over the world, meaning that in one day, a hundred thousand of those things will exist. In a week, that's _seven_ hundred thousand. In a month, that's **_THREE MILLION._** " Greta, still holding the camera, stared in horror, and the nearby Elaine and Bill listened as well.

Charlotte wasn't done yet. "On top of that…here's a little scenario to consider: a family is in the hospital. Grandma is dying from a long illness, and everyone is there to say goodbye. They say their prayers, they read last rites, and she peacefully passes in her sleep. Everyone is heartbroken, and they're not ready to leave yet. But then…a few minutes later, it's a miracle, Grandma is stirring. She's not dead! Everyone gathers back in, overwhelmed by amazement…just then, Grandma grabs the closest person to her and bites a chunk out of their face. The two strongest guys in the room try to restrain her, but they get bit too. And no one tries too hard to stop her, because it's Grandma, and she was just dead and she's probably scared; no one in their right mind in that situation would ever think to hurt Grandma in any way. Also, it's just a bite, so the assumption would be a Band-Aid or maybe a few stitches and boom, all better. Who'd ever assume they were about to turn into a cannibalistic freak?" By now, every able-bodied person in the triage was gathered around, listening to Charlotte's rationale.

"There's a countless number of scenarios that could've happened that could spread this infection. The point is, this is the more likely way it's spreading, and as it turns out, also the more disastrous one. I don't know if anyone will ever see this, but if you're watching right now, good luck and God bless, and keep your friends and family safe. This is Charlotte Brody, of CBInternet, signing off. Probably for good." She nodded to Greta, who then stopped recording. She and Elaine were stunned silent, but Bill made his stance clear.

"That sounds like a load of bullshit," he said defiantly. "You really think they'd keep that kind of thing covered up? You think they even COULD?"

Charlotte smirked. "You just gotta know who in the media to tell not to print or say something. You'd be amazed what sort of info you can dig up if you just go a few Google pages deeper."

At that moment, Danielle came over to stitch Charlotte's grazed arm. "Your turn. You really think that's how it's spreading?"

Charlotte winced and grunted as Danielle put the needle through the skin above her wound, to stitch it up. "God, that stings more than the bullet did!" She took a deep breath and refocused. "Yes, I do. It's the most logical thing."

Danielle glared at her. "Well, you might wanna keep that shit to yourself, since it's boiling over out there."

Upon hearing Danielle's comment, Charlotte listened more closely, and sure enough she heard a rumbling commotion coming from the main room. Various people were shouting at the Guardsmen.

"You can't keep us in here like this!" "This is such bullshit!" "We have families! Let us go find them!"

Sgt. Thompson stood at the front of the crowd. "If you wanna see your families again," he said, "your best bet is to stay put, because you'll die out there. You all saw what's out there, and it's already trying to get in."

"Just let us on the train and take us somewhere safer!" Chris chimed in, thinking about his wife and daughter.

"We're waiting until we get confirmation that there IS somewhere safer. I don't wanna move everyone into the middle of a large clustering of those things." Chris reluctantly nodded, acknowledging Thompson's logic. But everyone else maintained their frustration and kept arguing with the soldiers. At that point, another soldier came to the sergeant and pulled him aside.

"Sir," the young private said, "we have confirmation that the track is clear and unobstructed all the way to Cut Bank, Montana. We're gonna try and get a unit to Ephrata to clean it up and make sure it's secure."

"Never heard of it," Thompson said.

"That's kinda the point sir: it's small enough to manage."

Thompson thought for a moment, and nodded. "Alright. Ephrata it is. How soon can we get it confirmed clear?"

"Tough to say, maybe a few days."

Thompson sighed. "Just work at it, okay? This is your only job starting now."

"Yes sir." With that, Thompson walked away, heading for the triage area to check on the wounded. As he approached, Dr. Vaughn came up to him.

"You moved the corpses to the tower, right?"

The sergeant sighed. "Yes, these are people are freaking out enough without seeing a pile of bodies. How are things here?"

"Everyone's stable. These are just grazes and clean pass-throughs. They'll be fine."

"Good," said Thompson. He then went over to Charlotte, who was nearly fully stitched. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said calmly, "but I think I figured out what's happening here."

"What do you mean?" The sergeant was confused.

"About the walkers," she continued. "I think I have an explanation of why they're spreading so fast."

Thompson looked at her inquisitively. "And what would that be?"

Charlotte recapped a condensed version of her theory to Sgt. Thompson. As she spoke, Thompson appeared skeptical, which she addressed when she finished sharing her theory. "You don't believe me? I mean, you don't think it's possible?"

"It's interesting," Thompson admitted, "but it's wrong. The reports we have indicate that the prevailing theory is that there was an initial airborne pathogen which infected some people outright and turned them into walkers, and from there they've spread it through direct contact."

Charlotte looked apprehensive. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Thompson paused. "I'm sure enough. And either way, it doesn't matter. What matters is that we're getting an evacuation plan organized."

"How soon?" Elaine chimed in.

"Within the next few days hopefully. We're waiting—"

"DAYS?!" Bill jumped in. "Look…I've thought about it, and I just wanna go. It's my right. Just let me out, I'm willing to take my chances."

Danielle had to respond. "You were just shot in the leg. You're in no condition to go out there."

"Well I got shot IN HERE!"

"Please," the sergeant cut in, "don't argue, things are heated enough already." He turned to Bill. "Listen, if you wanna go, fine, but I'm not unlocking the front door with all the things outside. And speaking of which, do you honestly think you could outrun them? In your condition?" Bill hesitated, and ultimately shook his head. "Now listen, all of you. Your best chance of safety is sticking with us, listening to our warnings, and doing as we ask. We're not like the military in the movies who move in to control everyone, okay? We're just guys doing a job, and that job is keeping you all safe."

"You're right," Charlotte acknowledged before turning to everyone else. "I'm assuming they brought enough rations to keep us all fed until we evacuate. Our best bet is to just take it easy here."

"Thank you," Thompson said with sincere gratitude; given his knowledge of the stubbornness of journalists, he was surprised to see one agree with him. "At the moment, we're working on contacting a unit that can give us the all clear on a town further down the tracks. Once we get situated, we can start orchestrating rescues for people's families. If they're alive, there's a good chance they'll have been picked up by a separate unit. It'll all be okay as soon as the mayhem has subsided into something more manageable." After ensuring that he'd placed everyone at relative ease, he left the triage area and headed for the platform, where Devin remained in the front of the train waiting for his next instructions.

"Just when I was starting to get bored," the engineer said sarcastically, having been bored for hours. "What was the commotion in there a little while ago? Sounded like gunshots…"

"A walker got in. Must've followed the train."

Devin's heart sank. Had he been sitting in the engine's cabin, which faced back down the tracks, he would have seen the walker coming and could have warned Thompson. "Fuck me…what now?"

Thompson took a deep breath. "Everyone wants to leave to find their families. We've got to evacuate as soon as possible. Can you refuel this thing here? We need to get on the Empire Builder line and we may have to go rather far."

"Not here, but there's a railyard with a few pumps a little way down the tracks."

"Get there and back ASAP because we might have to leave quickly."

"Okay," Devin said right before making his way to the other end of the train. Thompson went inside the station to alert his men of the train's impending departure.

…

Ben and Danny watched Thompson as he made his way through the station, passing a message to some of the higher-ranking Guardsmen in the station.

"Something's wrong," Danny said with concern.

"No shit," Ben said with an eyeroll. "What part of this hasn't been wrong?"

"No man, I'm telling you. That train isn't sticking around. And after what we've done already, he's not gonna let us on."

"They won't abandon us…" Ben paused. "Although there's no guarantee we'd even make it onto the train in the first place when shit goes south." They stood silently pondering for a moment, and then Ben spoke again. "Let's go wait closer to the door. Just in case." Danny nodded, and they moved.

Meanwhile, Thompson finished alerting the higher-ups, when one ran up to him with a radio. "Thompson, it's Sergeant Major Douglas. He's requesting an update on the status of the quarantine zone." Thompson acknowledged him, took the radio, and walked to the station's alcove.

"Sergeant Thompson sir, highest-ranking official in the Seattle QZ. I'm told you request a status update."

"Affirmative," SGM Douglas responded in a gruff voice. "First of all, approximately how many in your zone?"

"There are over five hundred civilians here at King Street Station, plus about eighty Guardsmen."

"Status of the zone's structural integrity?"

Thompson hesitated, but knew he couldn't lie to his superior. "One door was damaged in a struggle and now won't close properly. It is a platform door removed from the high-volume herd of entities, but it is nevertheless damaged."

"Call 'em what they are son. Walkers. Have any breached the zone?"

Thompson sighed. "One breach. It caused a ripple effect that left thirteen dead including one Guardsman, and a dozen more were wounded. But the zone is once again secure."

There was radio silence for a moment. "So you're saying you've all been exposed?"

Thompson was now concerned. "No sir. No one in here has shown any symptoms of the virus."

Douglas audibly sighed over the radio. "I'm sorry son. We can't take any chances. The rest of Seattle has already fallen; none of the other QZs in the city have checked in for hours now."

Thompson looked horrified; Douglas continued.

"Some cities have been secured; Olympia and Spokane are contained, and other places up and down the coast are as well, like Los Angeles, San Diego, and Portland. But San Francisco has fallen, as have Salem, Boise, and Vancouver." He paused. "The protocol is immediate immolation and destruction of uncontained cities, to prevent further spread."

"You're gonna bomb Seattle? What if there are survivors out there?"

"I'm sorry son, but anyone who didn't follow the earlier evacuation order is foolish."

"BUT WE'RE NOT INFECTED! You can't just kill us all!"

"Soldier. You're all infected. Once that thing got into the station, all of you were exposed and compromised."

Thompson was on the verge of tears. "At least let us have a chance of making it. Don't bomb the city."

Douglas sighed again. "Trust me son. I've seen those things. This is better than turning into one of them. God bless. Over and out."

"No! NO!" Thompson couldn't get a response. Realizing he had ordered Devin to take the train elsewhere, he rushed to the platform in the vain hope that he hadn't gone yet; his mad dash heavily unnerved everyone who saw him. He plowed through the doors, and sure enough, the train had departed. He couldn't even see its lights on the horizon. In his rush to get to the platform, he didn't close the door behind him, and Ben and Danny stepped out after him.

"Where's the fucking train?" Ben asked angrily. Others had started to gather behind them as well, and panic was setting in.

Thompson regained focus and turned his attention to calming down the crowd. "The train is refueling not far from here. It will be back soon, and we will all be boarding it. But right now, I need you all to stay inside because it is not safe out here; we saw what happened with just one coming up onto this platform."

"We know what's up now," Ben said. "We won't let that shit happen again."

Before Thompson could respond, a man in the crowd began screaming. "THE TRAIN'S GONE! WE'RE TRAPPED HERE!" From there, the crowd descended into chaos. Ben and Danny, among a few others, ran past Thompson and onto the platform, planning to hop the fence. That idea was quickly scrapped when they got to the end of the platform and saw (as well as heard and smelled) the large cluster of walkers that had gathered on the other side of the fence, attracted by the train's roaring engine as it left the station. Ben quickly alerted everyone to it, and they all turned tail and ran back to the station. Meanwhile, those that weren't at the front of the mass gathering around the platform door turned their attention towards the soldiers at the front door, demanding to be let out.

In the middle, Thompson continued trying to ease the terrified confusion, Chris ran to the triage area to be by his friend Bill's side, and others looked to Gordon. "What do we do, man?" Josh asked him.

Gordon thought for a moment and looked around nervously. Then, he eyed the upper level of the station, and looked to the stairs that led to it. "Up there!" He announced.

"Good idea," Ryan agreed. "Let's move!" With that, the three of them, followed by Alice, Samantha, Quentin, Ethan, and a few others ran quickly to the stairs and up to the second level. Ben and Danny, as well as some of the others who had tried to follow them outside, were already up there, trying to open the tower doors.

"Get the sergeant!" Ben yelled. "He's got the key!"

Gordon then ran back downstairs and found Thompson. "Sir, we need to get into the tower! We get in there and lock it, it's our best shot of riding it out!"

"Not a chance!" Thompson yelled back. "First of all, I don't have the key; one of the other Guardsmen does and I can't find him right now. Second, we can't all fit in that tower. And finally, we need to get out of this city as soon as possible!"

"Well we can't do that if we're dead! Who has the keys, I'll find him."

"FORGET IT!" Thompson then angrily stormed off towards the front, where the masses were trying to get out.

"Motherfucker," Gordon said under his breath, frustrated. He then turned and went back upstairs, where Ben, Ryan and Quentin were trying to kick the door down.

"Keep at it!" Ethan encouraged. The three men did, but to no avail.

"Do it at the same time, lads!" Alice jumped in. "More force going at it at once."

"She's right," Ryan acknowledged. "On three, okay?" The three of them lined up. "One, two, three!" They kicked in unison, but nothing happened. "One, two, three!" They kicked again, and this time they felt some give in the door. "One, two, THREE!" This time, the latch broke and the door opened.

The three men needed a second to regain their balance, and in that second, Ethan ran past them and into the doorway leading to the clock tower. As soon as he entered, he was suddenly jumped.

It was Henry. He had turned into a walker.

The now-undead Henry grabbed the unsuspecting Ethan, and before Ethan even realized what was happening, Henry took a bite out of his right shoulder. The two stumbled back through the doorway and onto the floor, shocking everyone. Acting quickly, Quentin grabbed Henry and threw him to the ground, and Ryan began stomping his head in, killing him on the third one.

"How in the fuck…" Ben was dumbfounded. When was Henry bitten? Why didn't he say anything? But he didn't have time to answer any of the questions in his mind, as three more of the victims of Pvt. Hall's accidental shooting had also turned. They stumbled out of the tower doorway, and some of the crowd began screaming for help. Ryan and Quentin teamed up to take another one down via stomping, Ben and Gordon grabbed another and slammed it into the wall repeatedly, and Josh choke-slammed the third to the ground within the doorframe and slammed the door repeatedly shut on its head.

Most of the crowd who witnessed this retreated down the stairs and ran to the front entrance of the station. "They got inside! They're in the tower!" With that, total confusion set in among the Guardsmen at the front entrance, and it was enough for three men to sneak past and open three of the station doors and force their way outside…where they were promptly met and attacked by the even larger herd that had been gathering outside all night. As the men were devoured, Thompson ordered the doors closed, but walkers had gained a foothold of two of the now-open doors and were forcing their way inside.

Thompson had no other choice. "OPEN FIRE!" He loudly ordered. The Guardsmen obeyed the order, but muscle memory meant most were aiming for the chest instead of the head. "AIM FOR THE HEADS!" Thompson shouted. The soldiers amended their shooting, and while a number did go down, the massive horde was uncontainable. Thompson turned to the crowd. "Everyone upstairs now! It's the safest place to be! Do not, I repeat, do not go onto the platform! The door is broken and the train is not there!" With that, the crowd began making their way upstairs.

At the triage area, Chris was helping Bill, and the doctors, Charlotte, Greta, and Elaine were trying to help the remaining wounded. But, the herd was closing in fast.

"Come on man, hop faster!" Chris said to Bill, alluding to his wounded leg.

"I'm trying man, I'm trying!" Just then two walkers pounced on the two men, sending both to the ground. Chris was able to kick the walker off of himself, but unfortunately Bill did not have this ability. As Chris turned his attention to his friend, three more walkers got on top of Bill and began ripping him apart. He screamed in terror, but Chris knew there was nothing he could do for him without dying himself. With his last coherent thought, Bill turned his attention to him. "RUN! JUST RUN!" Heartbroken, Chris ran to the stairs, listening to his friend's agonized screaming.

Upstairs, the crowd was turning on each other, trying to get into the small doorway leading to the tower. Some were shoving, others were even punching. Those that had already been on the second level were able to get into the tower quickly.

"Jesus Christ, they're killing each other down there!" Danny noted.

"Ain't nothing we can do for them!" Ben said coldly. "Just keep climbing!"

Just behind, Ryan and Quentin were helping the bitten Ethan up the stairs. "He bit me…" Ethan said in fear, "he bit me…"

"You're gonna be alright, buddy," Quentin said, unaware of the infection spreading through Ethan's veins.

The crowd trying to filter through the doorway had gotten so long that it was practically down the steps. While Thompson and a few others had made their way upstairs already to try and aid the crowd, the massive crowd prevented the soldiers who remained on the ground floor from ascending. To Thompson's horror, he watched over half of his men get overwhelmed and eaten alive just fifteen feet below him.

Charlotte saw the sergeant staring at the slaughter helplessly. She ran to him to try and snap him back. "Sergeant!" She yelled to him. "What's the plan here? Hope that they can't climb steps?"

Thompson looked downstairs. The herd was approaching fast and people were still struggling to climb the stairs. Seeing this, Thompson regained his clarity and turned to three nearby soldiers. "Men! We're gonna shoot these things as they get to the stairs! Headshots only! We kill enough of them, that should ease the flow and prevent too many from getting up here at once!"

"Yes sir!" The soldiers replied. With that, they all aimed their rifles and opened fire. The walkers slowly but steadily began piling up, and ones that weren't immediately shot started tripping over themselves, causing a chain reaction of others falling. Still, Thompson knew this wouldn't work for long.

Up in the tower, Josh kept moving up with the others, when something caught his eye through the window. "It's the train!" He exclaimed. "It's coming back!"

Gordon looked and saw the train, but was not put at ease. "We can't get down there now! The crowd's too big and the herd is inside!"

Josh was not giving up. He then readied his elbow, and started slamming it into the class trying to break it. Realizing he couldn't talk him out of it, Gordon decided to help him, and started slamming it with his own elbow.

As Devin returned to the station, he could see from almost a quarter of a mile away that walkers were on the platform. "Fuck me…" He said to himself, terrified.

Gordon and Josh continued beating at the window, a task only made more difficult by the number of people on the stairs around them. As they kept hitting, a soldier aiding in the ascent saw them. "What the hell are you two doing? Keep the line moving!"

"We're trying to break it so we can signal the train," Josh explained.

Just then, Gordon remembered that all the soldiers were armed. "Hey, you gotta shoot out the window! This thing ain't cracking!"

"Not a chance!" The soldier said harshly. "Just keep it moving!"

"C'mon man," Gordon pleaded. "One soldier to another, this is the best strategy for us. We gotta let the train know, so they can help all of us."

"There's only the engineer onboard; he's unarmed and by all accounts NOT a soldier, so what exactly can he do?"

"If nothing else," Josh jumped in, "we can keep him from walking into those things!" Gordon nodded in agreement.

The soldier sighed. "Goddammit. Everyone cover your eyes!" He then pulled out his pistol, and shot the window five times, then he kicked it out completely. Gordon thanked the soldier, who then turned and kept climbing the stairs. Josh then leaned out the window, and began frantically waving his arms.

Back downstairs, Thompson and the soldiers were starting to run low on ammo as Charlotte and the remaining wounded approached the door to the tower. Just then, she saw Henry's corpse laying on the ground, still with blood in his mouth. He was one of the walkers the people had been screaming about before. "Oh my God," she realized, "I was right."

As Devin pulled closer to the station, he noticed a man leaning out the window waving at him, and he quickly surmised that the man was trying to signal him. He brought the train to its full stop in the station, and opened the door on the front of the train; there was a buffer stop keeping about ten feet of space between the front door and the platform, and while a few walkers attempted to make their way to Devin as he leaned out, none were successful.

"What the hell happened?!" Devin yelled up to the man.

"They broke in!" Josh responded. "Everyone's trying to get up here, and the soldiers are trying to stop whatever these things are but I don't know how long it'll work!"

Devin thought quickly, and got an idea from seeing that a lot of walkers were able to get out of the station, likely attracted to his train. "I gotta lead them away!" With that, he sat back down in the engineer's seat, and blasted the locomotive's horn for five full seconds. Everyone inside the station could hear the almost-deafening whistle, and only a few were able to deduce what was happening.

"What the fuck is happening?" Ben snarled in confusion.

Charlotte heard the horn right as she was about to enter the tower door, and she and Thompson locked eyes with each other, realizing what was happening. Charlotte ran up next to Thompson to see if the distraction was working, and it seemed to be helping. Devin blasted the horn again, this time for nearly ten seconds. As the people in the station reacted in various ways to it, most of the undead turned their attention to the blaring sound coming from outside. "Stop shooting!" Thompson ordered. "Let 'em be drawn to the horn, and when the stragglers come up, knife 'em!" By this time, the ones they had killed were starting to block the fifteen-foot-wide stairs, but all of the soldiers (plus Charlotte) knew it was only a small bandage. "You should probably get up the tower," Thompson warned her.

She ignored him. "You think this'll work?"

He stepped down and stabbed a straggler right in the eyeball. "It's out of our hands now."

In the train, Devin continued to blare the horn to lure the dead out, to the point that they were beginning to bang on the windows. Having anticipated this, Devin had prepared to reverse the train out of the station, and he did so. As he slowly inched the train backwards, the dead began falling onto the tracks in front of him. He looked at the platform doors and saw more and more continue to pile through; they were practically tripping over each other at this point. He finally exited the station fully, having been using the horn the entire way, and what seemed like a thousand walkers were now falling off the platform, getting up, and following the red lights of the train.

Back inside King Street Station, the number of walkers had diminished to only a few dozen, and Thompson realized now was the time to move. "Davis, Johns, Hagerty, get to the doors and seal them! The rest of you, on me, and kill the stragglers!" The Guardsmen stormed down the stairs and began stabbing all of the walkers dead; Davis, Johns, and Hagerty fought their way to the station's main entrance and managed to get the doors closed. Charlotte couldn't take her eyes off Thompson, killing the monsters with what seemed like grace. She quickly came back to her senses, and went to the tower.

As Devin got further away from the station, he had changed from long blasts of the horn, to quick repeated ones. He watched and just as the station was almost out of view, he saw a few soldiers make their way outside and kill the few still on the platform. Although Devin couldn't tell, Thompson was one of the soldiers on the platform, and he was thoroughly impressed with Devin's tactic, unable to help smiling at the fact that it worked.

Seeing that the soldiers had retaken the station, Devin went into the second phase of his plan, the part no one had predicted: he sped the train up to get further away from the herd. After putting about a quarter mile of space between his train and the herd on the tracks, he switched the train out of reverse, and turned the bright white light on his side of the train on to signal that this was the forward-moving side once again; upon seeing the light turn back on, Thompson's jaw dropped at the realization of Devin's true plan. Devin smirked, and put the train in full throttle and barreled toward the herd. As he crept the train up to forty miles per hour, he reached the herd and bloodily plowed through a significant number of them; any walker directly in the path was obliterated by the train, dying the bright white light a bloody red. Several other were clipped by it, being thrown and having their arms and legs torn off as a result. While Gordon moved along, helping the crowd get as far up the tower as possible, Josh stayed and witnessed the destruction of the herd, and was cheering at the sight; a few people passing by, including Samantha and Victor, had stopped and gathered around him to try and see what was happening.

Devin's actions diminished the size of the herd down to less than a hundred and fifty, all strewn about the track and out of the station. Coupled with the soldiers' work inside the station, King Street was safe again. As Devin returned the train to the station, Thompson ordered a few men to stand guard on the platform and shoot the walkers when they inevitably came back, and then went inside and ordered a few others to start gathering up the bodies to drag outside and free the station up. He then went to his radio to inform Douglas of the situation.

"Sergeant Major Douglas, this is Sergeant Thompson of the King Street QZ in Seattle, calling to inform you that the situation is contained here. There are still over four hundred uninfected survivors here and we have the situation under control. Most of the herd outside has been dispatched. I implore you to cancel the order."

There was silence for a moment, then Douglas responded. "Look son, I can keep them from blowing you up if you get on that train and get out of there, but the destruction order came from the top. There's nothing I can do about it. I'll delay it as long as I can, but frankly I can't imagine you'll have much more than an hour to get your asses outta there."

Thompson sighed with resignation. "Understood sir. Thompson out." With that, he dropped the radio and turned to his men. "Gentlemen, we're evacuating. Get everyone on that train now." He then ran out to the platform and informed Devin of the impending evacuation and to have the train ready, to which Devin obliged. Thompson then went back inside as the last of the civilians made their way down the stairs, including the bitten Ethan. Ryan held onto him while Quentin ran up to Thompson.

"Our friend got bit," Quentin said softly, "what do we do now?"

Thompson just looked at him sadly. "There's nothing we can do for him. Except end his suffering."

Quentin was furious. "What? No! You can't just give up on him!"

"You saw what happened when my man was bitten."

"Yeah I did, you just shot him! How do you know it's always fatal? C'mon man, we gotta try!"

"Quentin…" Charlotte jumped in. "I've seen these things up close. Most of them have very noticeable bitemarks. I'm sorry."

Quentin's heart sank. "Fuck man…" He paused for a moment. "So he's just gonna turn?"

"Not if we shoot him," Thompson said remorsefully.

"No man…let me stay with him. We'll take him somewhere away from everyone else, and when he goes…I'll make sure he doesn't come back."

Thompson reluctantly agreed, and took out his knife and handed it to Quentin. "It's gotta be in the brain."

Quentin nodded, and turned back and returned to Ethan; Charlotte followed him. To their horror, the young man was getting worse rapidly. "Guys…" he said hoarsely, "I think I'm dying. And I don't wanna…turn into one of those things…"

Charlotte knelt down in front of him and put her hands on the sides of his face gently. "Everything's gonna be okay Ethan," she said warmly, fighting back tears, "you're not gonna become one." As she spoke, Quentin walked behind Ethan and whispered into Ryan's ear what had to be done, and that it should be done immediately.

"We're gonna get you out of here," she spoke, in dark code, "and you'll have nothing to worry about." Quentin pulled out the knife, and Charlotte held his head still, using her left index finger to indicate a place under Ethan's right ear where a knife could more easily penetrate the skull; Quentin nodded in understanding. Charlotte then lowered her hands from his face, to around his shoulders to hug him (and also to be out of the way). "Everything's gonna be okay kid," she said softly as Quentin readied himself for a moment, and then swiftly jammed the knife into the spot she'd earlier indicated, killing him before he had any time to react. Charlotte broke into tears as Ethan's body went limp in her arms; Ryan removed Ethan's jacket, then he and Quentin gently lowered him to the floor, and Ryan put the jacket over Ethan's head and upper body. Thompson had watched the entire thing from afar, and was struck by the grace Charlotte had displayed throughout. But, he put his feelings aside, and strode to the front of the station and called for everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "we are evacuating."


End file.
